, but it hurts SO GOOD!

San Diego’s Zzymzzy Quartet combines gypsy stylings with the great American songbook to make swing music that’s slinky and danceable. On their debut album Zzwing!, the combo enlists some of San Diego’s best musicians to play classics like “If I Had You”, exotic numbers like “Gnossienne”, and originals like the “Baby Django Creep”. For upcoming shows or to book the band, click here.

Lover, Come Back to Me

Gnossienne No. 1, Lent

Judy

Caravan

Baby Django Promenade

What’ll I Do?

Let Yourself Go

If I Had You

Tico-Tico No Fuba

Baby Django Boom-Boom

The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise

Baby Django Creep

Zzymzzy Quartet:

Beston Barnett – guitar, vocals

Matt Gill – clarinet

Patrick Marion – upright bass

Pete Miesner – guitar, lead vocals

featuring:

Rob Duncan – accordion

Chad Farran – doumbek

Chloe Feoranzo – tenor saxophone

Hal Smith – kit drums

Ray Suen – violin

Review

SAN DIEGO TROUBADOUR – by Lou Curtiss
May 2007

Those Gypsy swingers sure get around and the Zzymzzy Quartet is no exception. From Django Hot Club licks by Caravan to South America and New York City, the group covers songs by major songwriters and personalities (Hoagy Carmichael, Duke Ellington, Irving Berlin, and others) and do some of their own stuff too, which happily doesn’t suffer by comparison. The songs range in a time capsule that covers the late 19th century, and mostly the 1930s (even the 1893 “Gnossienne No. 1, Lent” has a 1930’s klezmer touch). Even the Dukish “Caravan” sounds a bit like these guys are hauling bagels from the East Side to Tel Aviv with a stop at the Hot Club to give Django a bite.

We are living in a time when Django Reinhardt is being revered as a minor (at least) deity and every city has a Hot Club or Gypsy swing group of its own. I only have to play Django on my “Jazz Roots” radio show (KSDS 88.3 – a shameless plug) to have the phone light up. There are quite a few people out there playing this music, but very few people playing it as well as these guys. They do all of it well, from the latin “Tico Tico,” the slow standard “What’ll I Do,” and even a touch of Les Paul and Mary Ford on “The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise” although that Gypsy swing guitar creeps in here too.

The group consists of lead guitarist (and harmony vocalist where needed) Beston Barnett who is mighty fine on old time tunes and his own compositions as well. The clarinet player is Matt Gill who lets good taste keep his solos in bounds (he doesn’t try to be Benny Goodman or Dave Taras, he plays what’s needed). Pete Miesner is sort of in the same category with his vocals. He doesn’t try to sound black or British; he doesn’t mumble – just the words that you can understand presented in a pleasing format (his solid rhythm is okay too). Patrick Marion’s bass is just what’s needed to round out the sound. Guestings by Ray Suen (always a good choice in whatever group he plays that hot violin with) and Rob Duncan’s accordion really adds that French cabaret sound. I hadn’t heard Chloe Feoranzo’s tenor sax before, but she really gives that Johnny Hodges-Harry Carney-Otto Hardwick sound to “Caravan.” Chad Farran’s doumbek is a nice touch that even Ellington didn’t think of.
I only have one criticism of this group. The recording should have been issued on 78s so I could play it on “Jazz Roots.” This is one I would hope is in the KSDS record library so that folks around there and other jazz radio stations will play it. The only problem is that with a name like Zzymzzy, they’re not exactly going to be first up in alphabetical listings. Maybe that just means an extra special surprise when you get to the end.

On Petite Fleur, San Diego’s Zzymzzy Quartet combines gypsy stylings with the great American songbook to make swing music that’s slinky and danceable. Tackling greats like Sidney Bechet, Duke Ellington, Hoagy Carmichael, and Irving Berlin, the quartet’s second album adds kit drums, trombone, melodica, and slide guitar to the combo. For upcoming shows or to book the band, click here.

At the Sligo Fair – Songs from Yeats is a fantastical concept album in which Beston Barnett imagines himself to be William Butler Yeats’ songwriting partner: the words of the great Irish poet are mined for mood and given melody. Working with producer Daniel Tashian in his Nashville studio, penny whistle and bodhran meet pedal steel and drums to create a modern folk-rock record that sounds like a book of poems.

all words by William Butler Yeats, all melody and arrangement by Beston Barnett

co-produced by Beston Barnett and Daniel Tashian

Review

San Diego Troubadour, March 2014 – by Jon Kanis

I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk, For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.
– “The Indian Upon God” by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

What a beautiful idea: take the work of a classic poet and set their verse to music. It is an idea that has played itself out in various projects before (Alan Parsons’ trawl through the works of Edgar Allan Poe of course comes to mind) – but nothing that you’ve heard before sounds as charming and compelling as the latest sonic offering by the exceptionally talented Beston Barnett. At the Sligo Fair is a bacchanalian Renaissance of festival proportions that presents the lyrical gifts of Ireland’s most celebrated poet laureate in a sparkling new context. For 46 glorious minutes it is a galloping, glorious ride that rocks and sways and satisfies in a perfectly integrated swirl of the modern day and the anachronistic. There are few poets of the 20th century as revered as William Butler Yeats and the adaptability of his insightful verse is put to the test by multi-instrumentalist Barnett. The results emerge in flying colors – in other words the music is majestically marvelous.

At the Sligo Fair is Barnett’s ninth solo LP and was recorded in his native Nashville. His main collaborator on the project is co-producer/drummer Daniel Tashian, who contributes instrumentation of every sort. Tashian is, of course, the son of Holly and Barry Tashian (of Boston’s legendary The Remains). Appropriately enough, there is plenty of Irish tin-whistle along with flute, pedal steel, and high-strung guitar. Why, there’s even a little bossa nova thrown in for good measure. And special mention must be made of John Mailander’s superlative fiddle playing, which shines across this entire album.

In the 15 years since his debut album Chrysalis, Barnett has become quite the fixture on the San Diego music scene. In addition to his solo work he also plays guitar and sings with the outstanding gypsy café jazz ensemble the Zzymzzy Quartet (see story, pps. 8-9).

At the Sligo Fair is a wonderful marriage of melody with the language of love at the fore and there’s not an ounce of angst to be found throughout the proceedings. The entire affair jangles with the merriment of a grand celebration after a long and fruitful harvest, without ever sounding archaic or dead. The melodies are sublimely superb with more hooks than your granddaddy’s tackle box.

In addition to being a very fine musician, singer, and songwriter, Barnett also is a top-notch designer who creates his own line of custom-made furniture. That goes a long way toward explaining the earthiness of his music, as he is a woodworker by trade. He has crafted an exquisite jewel of an album. Yeats ought to be proud.

Review

fROOTS Magazine – by Rick Sanders

Superb album, bursting with joy and experiment. All put together more as a recording project than an actual band, with two griot-background Senegalese providing lead vocals and kora, a Cuban on vocals, and two LA Americans on “beats, keyboard and electronica” and guitars, organs, percussion and backing vocals. So there’s the canvas and paints. What sings out as the CD proceeds is the affinity that comes from musicians who mutually inspire. It doesn’t really matter so much what makes what or from where as what heart and art goes into what. So you get a deep growly electronic slab of riff with bubbles of kora bursting overhead that leads into a few bars of soukous guitar and a voice that sounds like Baaba Maal’s brother. That good. And all the potential clutter of a production like this doesn’t get a chance to root – the housekeeping and editing is sharp and clear. Every element gets space to be heard. Delicious music.

Songlines – by Nigel Williamson

An Afro-Cuban rhythmic riot

Senegalese griot styles, Cuban sassiness, Afro-funk power, slamming dance floor beats and swirling layers of electronica are all thrown into a melting pot by the hybrid San Diego-based collective Faba Loba. If it sounds like a recipe for a complete disaster, in reality it turns out to be ridiculously good. The kora playing of Amadou Fall and the soulful Wolof voice of Ibou Ba (both of whom also perform as the California-based duo Sene Africa) provide much of the melodic impetus. The funk comes from Beston Barnett’s subtle guitar and organ fills, the rhythmic intensity from the dance floor grooves and remixing of beatmaster Rafi El and the Cuban spice from the rumba choruses of backing vocalist Lica Cardona. The diverse elements are calibrated perfectly and the fusion reaches its apotheosis on ‘Dale La Piñata’, on which Ba sounds uncannily like Youssou N’Dour as he wails soulfully over an infectious, dubby hip-hop beat laced with sparkling kora arpeggios and Cardona’s Cubano choruses. The title-track is almost as good, a funk-fuelled cut-up on which the musical traditions of Dakar, Havana and Los Angeles collide with thrilling urbanity.

In The Noise of Wings, Beston Barnett performs a selection of hundred-year-old gospel standards, some hewing close to a traditional style while others explore African, Caribbean, or Latin-American interpretations. His notes from the album are below.

Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho (unknown)

Angel Band (W. B. Bradbury, J. Hascall, 1860)

Farther Along (Rev. W. A. Fletcher, 1911)

Just a Closer Walk with Thee (unknown)

Rock My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham (unknown)

Moses Moses (unknown)

Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika (E. Sontonga, J. Parry, 1897)

I’ll Fly Away (A. E. Brumley, 1929)

I Don’t Care Where They Bury My Body (unknown)

Nearer My God to Thee (S. F. Adams, L. Mason, 1856)

Swing Down Sweet Chariot (unknown)

When the Saints Go Marching In (K. Purvis, J. M. Black, 1896)

The Old Ship of Zion (M. J. Cartwright, D. B. Towner, 1889)

Notes

Stories written two to three thousand years ago by religious groups whose central self-identifying experience was escape from slavery, those stories then translated into English under King James at a moment when the language was at its most inventive and vibrant, those words then transmogrified into moans, shouts, and hollers by another people just themselves freed and struggling in the aftermath of slavery: traditional African-American gospel is some of the heaviest songwriting out there. The subject matter is death: death as revelator of mysteries, as re-uniter of families and communities, as final comfort against earthly sorrows. It’s a sentiment that can be balm or joyful railing or bittersweet delusion, but these songs surely carry a universal power for believers and non-believers alike.

I grew up a sort of cultural half-Jew in Nashville, atheist as I could be, and still am. But I also grew up with gospel music, and loved it, and hear it still as the most lucid dream of home. I connected with it directly – bypass the brain and straight to the heart – but as I became a musician, I of course pieced its technical elements together: simple chords and basic melody, rhythm of layered syncopations, endless vocal possibilities for texture and pathos. I learned to play music from the Congo, South Africa, Brazil, Cuba, and everywhere I went within the towering architecture of the Great Tree of the African Musical Diaspora, I felt resonances of home.

In this collection of old gospel songs, I invent nothing. Some tracks I hew close to traditional; others, it’s as if I’d cobbled together a long vine-y bridge between two disparate branches of the Great Tree. But every folkloric zigzag I took seems like it was latent, as the forest is latent in the seed. The Congo, South Africa, Brazil, Cuba were there already. Haunting.

To anyone wanting to hear the original sources that inspired this album, I recommend as a starting place: Josh White, Reverend Gary Davis, the Georgia Sea Island Singers, the Golden Gate Quartet, Reverend Cleophus Robinson.

Review

San Diego Troubadour – by Lou Curtiss

When I listen to gospel music, it’s mostly the primitive Baptist music of Southern Appalachia, or a good Jubilee Quartet like the Golden Gate, or the Heavenly Gospel Singers or maybe a more modern ‘50s-ish group like the Swan Silvertones or Dixie Hummingbirds. Maybe I’ll listen to a fine bluegrass or old timey gospel number by the Blue Sky Boys or Bill Monroe. I almost never listen to modern gospel songs, and I don’t believe Beston Barnett has much either. In his latest CD, The Noise of Wings, I hear a lot of old time sounds here. Some have been taken and played in a style that heretofore hasn’t been done before like a knock out West Indian version of “Angel Band” and another of “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” and an almost bluesy version of “Rock My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham.” Some are more or less presented in a traditional manner like “Moses Moses,” which sounds like an old Georgia Sea Island presentation, or an African piece “Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika” or right out of a Golden Gate Quartet 78 “Swing Down Sweet Chariot” and one of those more modern churchy groups gives out “Old Ship of Zion.” Little highlights of jazz, various kinds of Latin and African rhythms plus some very tasteful resonator guitar licks top off the score.

Where it’s needed you might hear the clarinet of Matt Gill, or the drum kit of Matt Taylor, or the cornet of Bruce Vermazen, or even some harmonica, whistling, and triangle by Jeffrey Joe Morin, Pete Miesner, and Chad Farran; and the bongos of Aaron Irwin, but only where it adds something to the performance. I hear so many presentations where friends are added to the mix, only I think because they are friends, and they only add to a mix that doesn’t sound anything like the performer intended, but you can’t refuse that “hey, can I be on your CD and my feelings will be hurt if I’m not” vibe. That isn’t the case here. In most every case the backup is just what is needed to make the performance what it was intended to be.

The is a fine recording, the music is tight and well put together and should please those who are gospel fans or not.

Beston’s seventh release of original material is stripped down to simple arrangements for guitar and voice. The songs too have been stripped down to reveal bare heart-ache, skeletal longing. Taken together they form a story (just as their titles form a kind of poem), a relationship arc from break-up to forgetting. Each song explores in some way, both melodically and lyrically, the dual nature of being alone: the heaviness of loneliness weighing down the stark lightness of freedom.

1. The only way to go is alone

2. but you won’t really know what to feel

3. when loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night

4. in a beautiful place with high mountain air

5. tracing tattoos across a cloud

6. with these few signs

7. your love and your loss

8. woven into one shimmering thread.

Review

SAN DIEGO TROUBADOUR – by Mike Alvarez

The old advertising slogan, “been there, done that,” comes to mind almost unbidden when one is presented with music by a singer-songwriter whose voice is accompanied by an acoustic guitar. The scene is abundantly populated with people who arrange their music in this tried and true fashion. So it is incumbent upon such artists to make their songs intriguing, be it through emotional vocals, insightful lyrics, innovative song structures, or instrumental skill: preferably an artful combination of them all.

On his latest release, loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night, Nashville expatriate and current North Park resident Beston Barnett has crafted a sound that is unique and interesting. A long-time practitioner of genres as varied as world music and hip-hop, he creates an atmosphere that is warm and sincere. And he does it with just his voice and a guitar.

This CD is more of an EP than an album, clocking in as it does at a little under half an hour. However, it is instantly appealing from the first song “the only way to go is alone”. Barnett’s voice is warm and inviting, expressing a sincerity that is hard to resist. His guitar playing is interesting, in that he makes unusual choices of chords and techniques that lend an exotic quality to the songs. More often than not, he opts for an intricate finger picking style instead of merely strumming the chords, which adds texture and complexity to his music.

The title song is notable for its straightforward presentation and unusual lyrical imagery. Its protagonist is seemingly going through the routine motions of living, yet he manages to find deep meaning in the most mundane of observations. The music twists and turns through some unexpected chord changes, at times evoking the late Michael Hedges at his best. The follow-up track, “in a beautiful place with high mountain air”, might also be a strong contender for the title, as its lovely melody and lyrics are perfectly suited to the pristine and sparse arrangements that define this recording. In fact, all of the tunes have a real tendency to get under your skin after a while. And that’s a good thing!

Barnett has a curious penchant for long song titles, but he crafts songs that are succinct and to the point. While this collection’s short running time might be considered a negative by some, it serves one of show business’s most cherished tenets: always leave ’em wanting more!

Lyrics

The only way to go is alone

written by Beston Barnett

everybody says that we’ve been great

everybody whispers it’s too late

some thoughts, they seem like one-way trains

and the only way to go is to go

angel sing and devil dance

leaf fall from the tree

close your eyes and say goodnight

and be… free… of me

saw you at our favorite taco shop

the happy couple might have stopped to talk

could barely move my legs like lead

and my voice too scared, too weak, or too dumb to speak

angel sing and devil dance

leaf fall from the tree

have your cry then say goodbye

and be… free… of me

it all can come apart so suddenly

so don’t think you can know, no, no, don’t tease

some things you do are one-way trains

and the only way to go is alone

angel sing and devil dance

leaf fall from the tree

dry your eyes then drive all night

and be… free… of me

but you won’t really know what to feel

written by Beston Barnett

if only there was some

anger to lean on

if only there was blame

where loss has left you numb

if only you could guess

could know to rage or bless

and, priestly, nod your head

to those who would confess

if only…

but you won’t really know what to feel

until it’s over

the smile has learned to lie

the words are in the sky

a shadow’s on the sand

your lover’s said goodbye

and if only you were told

the way back to the road

if only there was love

not this complicated code

if only…

you wish the pain would come

relieve this tedium

then you could start to live

the life of the undone

undone by what’s been said

undone beyond this dread

if only there was clar-

ity in your broken bed

when loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night

written by Beston Barnett

how the fading light crosses the room

the way that dust glows flying from the broom

and it all must be swept away

no one sees it anyway

cause I’m cleaning the house alone, singing

circus bird light on my window

you bring the booze, this time I’ve got the show

we’ll toast the new moon, and we’ll drink a tune as we watch

loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night

here’s an empty street at dawn

when all of the streetlights are still turned on

and the sky is red with pain

every new town feels the same

when you’re walking its streets alone, calling out

gravedigger wave through the twilight

you say I’m wrong but you know that I’m right

there’s bodies and bones, and there’s ghosts that moan when they feel

loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night

I may be alone and I may be free

free to replay these last memories

of that song our bodies made

it’s a song that will not fade

how’d we turn away from its call, crying

ghost lover, fly through the crossfire

I’m here waiting with paper and pen

put your hand in mine and we’ll dance in rhyme, just like when

loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night

in a beautiful place with high mountain air

written by Beston Barnett

how long would you love me?

how true would you be?

and if it costs you your friends

in the balance with your pen?

would you break? would you bend?

even then, would you love me?

your lungs ache to know me

how much would you know?

and if the cost is your name?

payment weighed out in shame

as you try to transcend

even then, would you love me?

and when the web of their love

holds you fast like a fist

and won’t let you breathe

will you think of me then?

my love is a knife

that can cut you free

how long would you love me?

how deep would you cut..

and if the cost is your soul

burning bridges take their toll

would you burn them again?

and again, would you love me?

how far would you take me?

how clean would you break?

and if the cost is your life

your house, your dogs, and your wife

and all that you could have been

in the end, would you love me?

it’s your heart and your lungs

one wants love, one wants air

they won’t both be appeased

will you think of me now?

my love is a knife

it will cut out your heart

it will strand you alone

in a beautiful place

with high mountain air

my love flies you there

as long as you dare

to only love me

tracing tattoos across a cloud

written by Beston Barnett

a call to nowhere

from the airport phone

then glide through the night

on a flight back home

this lonely life

you’ve ruined it for me

can’t seem to read

at the speed of sound

so I watch the moon

trace tattoos across a cloud

and this lonely life

you’ve ruined it for me

and I can’t begin to forget where I’ve been

in your orchard with all of your sin

a call to nowhere

are you there? say hello

like a discarded apple, I fall

will we all end so low?

cause this lonely life

you’ve ruined it for me

and I can’t begin to forget where I’ve been

in your orchard with all of your sin

with these few signs

written by Beston Barnett

you, you close the blinds

you make up your mind

you finish your coffee

with one last look

close up your book

and put it all away

the time is come

when you don’t have to wish for nothing more

wave from the door

cutie pie ,

cutie pie , these days are done

mmm, you turn to go

you lock the door

click off the porch light

with these few signs

you leave your shine

here in the dark

the time is come

when you don’t have to wish for nothing less

twirl your dress

cutie pie ,

cutie pie , these days are done

your love and your loss

written by Beston Barnett

we sold all your stuff

my girlfriend said it’s rough

sleeping with all that overhead

just an ordinary scene

boxes full of faded dreams

thrown across the yard like kids throw leaves

we sold them cheap

there was no way to foretell

how the house would lose your smell

how for me your face would fade

so I’ve marshalled these strange chords

to dig beneath the floor

and bring back word of love that never dies

it just gets fossilized

a haze and a gloss

your love and your loss

sink into the sediment

and I’ll hold you in my clay

those lost golden days

are singing through my mouth, my hands, my eyes

know you in disguise

woven into one shimmering thread.

written by Beston Barnett

Note: Like the chapter titles in Italo Calvino’s novel If on a winter’s night a traveler, the song titles can be read in order to form a sentence – a sort of summation of the theme of the CD: “The only way to go is alone, but you won’t really know what to feel when loneliness and freedom waltz together through the night in a beautiful place with high mountain air, tracing tattoos across a cloud – with these few signs, your love and your loss [are] woven into one shimmering thread.”

Juju Duarte is an old Bahian statesman that’s spent most of his life singing samba professionally. Da Rua Dos Ossos (or “From the Street of Bones” – it’s the name of the street he lives on, just north of the Pelourinho in Salvador da Bahia), recorded partly in his house in Brazil and partly here in San Diego, covers many styles of Brazilian music – samba velho, bossa nova, samba de roda, pagode. To the extent that all North and South American popular music is a mix of African and European, this album leans towards the African with more percussion and melody, less harmony and less frills. There’s also a lot of sounds recorded from the marketplace, the street, and Juju’s bird-filled house mixed in between songs. Taken as a whole, it is a portrait of a master singer’s many-hued life and loves.

1. Foi Agora Que Eu Chegei

2. Felicidade

3. Deixa A Vida Me Levar

4. Le Le Le Baiana

5. Trem Das Onze

6. Juju canta do Santo Antonio

7. Batucada de Gandhi

8. O Barquinho

9. Madelena

10. Piaba

11. Ignacio

12. Não Vou Pra Casa

13. Juju toca caixa de fósforos

14. Estrada Do Sol

15. Juju canta de Joujoux

16. Samba Da Minha Terra

17. Maria Baiana Maria

18. Do Fundo Do Nosso Quintal

19. Juju dá um bate-papo do Rio

Reviews

AFROPOP – by Banning Eyre

Juju Duarte is an unsung treasure of backstreet Rio de Janeiro. He sang for 20 years in samba clubs in Rio, but also at religious gatherings and street parties. His producer and collaborator here, American musical adventurer Beston Barnett, describes him as “an encyclopedia of Brazilian music.” That may be, but what makes this record so enjoyable, is its folksy, straightforward presentation, as if we, like Barnett, were invited into Juju`s funky home for an intimate music party. Most of these 19 tracks are tuneful bossa novas and gently loping sambas, backed minimally by acoustic guitar, bass, and light percussion, and featuring Juju singing fantastically beautiful melodies with joyful, informal ease.

Juju can croon like a bossa nova romantic (“Estrada Do Sol”) or make a samba funky with scratchy romanticism (“Deixa A Vida Me Levar”) or as moody and melodious as a Cape Verdean morna (“Trem Das Onze”). But there`s a street edge to Juju`s performance that separates these recordings from just about any acoustic-oriented Brazilian release you`ll find. The album works in a couple of a capella performances, short stretches of Juju reminiscing in Portuguese, and some great ambient sounds – lots of singing birds, bands marching by, street drums, partying voices. All this makes for a fast-moving, deeply satisfying flow. Barnett plays a variety of instruments here, and invites others to bring in a delightful array of acoustic sounds – cavaquinho, flute, berimbau, and on one track, what sounds like a bassoon. The accompaniment is tasty but never obtrusive letting this be truly Juju`s session.

There are a few familiar tunes here, two Jobim bossas, and a samba party classic, “Maria Baiana Maria.” But all but the best educated listeners will make discoveries in Juju`s “street of bones.” Two numbers, “Madelena” and “Ignacio” tilt towards Afro Cuban music, the latter even incorporating a clave pattern played on an African bell. If you long for the unvarnished, folksy side of roots samba – that magic mix of urban and rural – without a trace of artificiality or packaging, this one is for you.

THE BEAT – Vol. 26, No. 2, 2007 – by Robert Ambrose

From juju music to Juju Duarte is a jump in continents as well as music style, but the simple acoustic recording of this Brazilian senior has the same allure of authentic music played well and with heart. The songs captured on this session span the history of Brazilian popular music from bossa nova to samba. Duarte sings with an expressive, rich voice that seems comfortable with the various styles, and equally confident in the various recording venues that range from living room to studio. During some of the songs, one can hear birds singing along in the background, and the rich ambient sound fills in the space between a few songs.

I am a slave to percussion and appreciate the multiple textures created by producer Beston Barnett to capture the spirit of Bahia. `Le Le Le Baiana` features the iconic berimbau, stringed percussion foundation for capoeira; very nice. Snippets of live street music and sounds, mixed in with and between songs, add to the spirit of this recording, which offers an aural visit to Salvador, capital of Bahian culture. The CD ends with an extended conversation with Juju in Brazilian Portuguese, a beautiful language to listen to, but it is a track I chose not to put on the iPod. The rest of the album is thoroughly enjoyable, full of generous singing by an unheralded master.

WORLD MUSIC CENTRAL – “Roots Samba from Bones Street” – by Angel Romero

Da Rua Dos Ossos pays tribute to a legendary Brazilian singer, Juju Duarte. Producer Beston Barnett traveled to Salvador da Bahia in Brazil to record the vocals of the veteran singer. Additional music was recorded in San Diego (California).

Duarte has dedicated most of his artistic life to singing samba. For Da Rua Dos Ossos, Duarte chose a collection of Afro-Brazilian songs which include several styles: samba velho, bossa nova, samba de roda, baiana, and pagode.

The acoustic sound of the album has a charming unplugged flavor. Most of the musical accompaniment is composed of stringed instruments and a wide assortment of Brazilian and African percussion.

Juju Duarte still lives on a Rua Dos Ossos (“The Street of Bones”), just north of the Pelourinho in Salvador da Bahia. The CD was partially recorded there and one can hear the sounds of songbirds in the backgrounds.

(1) a reference to Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, the day before Ash Wednesday and traditionally the last day of Carnaval

Deixa A Vida Me Levar

written by Serginho Meriti, Eri dos Cais – pagode

featuring Jason Stanyek on background vocals

Eu já passei por quase tudo nessa vida

Em matéria de guarida espero ainda a minha vez

Confesso que sou de origem pobre

Mas meu coração é nobre, foi assim que Deus me fez

E deixa a vida me levar (vida leva eu)

Deixa a vida me levar (vida leva eu)

Deixa a vida me levar(vida leva eu)

Sou feliz e agradeço por tudo que Deus me deu

Só posso levantar as mãos pro céu

Agradecer e ser fiel ao destino que Deus me deu

Se não tenho tudo que preciso

Com o que tenho vivo

De mansinho, lá vou eu

Se a coisa não sai do jeito que eu quero

Também não me desespero

O negócio é deixar rolar

E aos trancas e barrancos, lá vou eu

E sou feliz e agradeço por tudo que Deus me deu

I’ve been through just about everything in this life

When it comes to being sheltered, I’m still waiting my turn

I confess that I was raised in poverty

But my heart is noble, that’s how God made me

Let life carry me (life carries me)

I’m happy and thankful for all God gave me

I can only lift my hands to the sky

To give thanks and be faithful to the destiny God gave me

If I don’t have all I need

with what I have, I live

Smoothly, there I go.

If something doesn’t come out the way I want

I don’t despair either

The trick is to let it roll

Through the ups and downs, there I go

I’m happy and thankful for all God gave me

Le Le Le Baiana

traditional samba de roda

featuring Jason Stanyek on berimbau and Gianni Staiano on djembe

A Baiana me pega, me joga na lama

Eu não sou camarão, camarão me chama

Lê lê lê Baiana

A Baiana deu sinal

The Bahian woman hits me, throws me in the dirt

I’m not a shrimp, but shrimp is what she calls me

Le le le Bahian woman

The Bahian woman gave a sign (looked good?)

Moinho da Bahia queimou

Queimou, deixa quemar

The Mill of Bahia was burning

It’s burnt, let it burn

Trem Das Onze

written by Adoniran Barbosa – samba velho

featuring Jeff Polakow on bassoon

Não posso ficar

Nem mais um minuto com você

Sinto muito amor, mas não pode ser

Moro em Jaçanã

Se eu perder esse trem

Que sai agora às onze horas

Só amanhã de manhã

E além disso, mulher

Tem outra coisa:

Minha mãe não dorme enquanto eu não chegar

Sou filho único

Tenho minha casa prá olhar

I can’t stay

Even another minute with you

I’m full of love, but it can’t be

I live in Jaçanã(1)

If I miss the train

That leaves just now at eleven o’clock,

there’s only tomorrow morning.

And also this, woman

There’s another thing:

My mother won’t sleep until I arrive

I’m her only son

I’ve got to watch over my house

(1) Jaçanã is a neighborhood in São Paulo

Batucada De Gandhi

traditional ijexá

Aonde vai papai o jô

Vou depressa por aí

Vou fazer minha folia

Com os Filhos de Gandhi

A nossa turma é alinhada

vem pro meu bloco

Pra fazer a batucada

E mori mori ô babá

Babá kiloxê jocou

ê mori mori ô babá

Babá kiloxê jocou(1)

Wherever Papa O Jô is going

I’m going to hurry there

I’m going to make my revelry

with the Sons of Gandhi(2)

Our crew is well-dressed

Come out with my bloco

To make the drumming

(1) These are Yoruba words or imitations of Yoruba words. There are traces of Yoruba religions scattered around the Americas; in some – like the santeria in Cuba – the original language or a fusion thereof is still spoken by the priesthood, in others – like the condomble of Brazil – the meaning has been forgotten, but the sounds are still repeated in songs and prayers.

(2) The Filhos de Gandhi, or Sons of Gandhi, is the largest afro-bloco in Salvador da Bahia, about ten thousand strong. A bloco is like a team of revelers at Carnaval and other community events: the Filhos are all African-Brazilian men wearing all white, with white turbans and blue jewelry; their songs are older and use rhythms based in Afro-Brazilian religion.

When he hears a beautiful samba, doesn’t know if it’s beautiful or not.

The Brazilian who can’t play samba on a matchbox(1)

Wakes in the morning with nothing to tell

Because even in sleep, a Brazilian is melody

You don’t need harmony, to samba and to sing.

(1) This track begins with Juju playing a samba rhythm on a matchbox

Estrada Do Sol

written by Antonio Carlos Jobim, Dolores Duran – bossa-nova

É de manhã, vem o sol

Mas os pingos da chuva que ontem caiu

Ainda estão a brilhar

Ainda estão a dançar

Ao vento alegre que me traz esta canção

Quero que você me dê a mão

Vamos sair por aí

Sem pensar no que foi que sonhei

Que chorei, que sofri

Pois a nossa manhã

Já me fez esquecer

Me dê a mão, vamos sair pra ver o sol

It’s morning, the sun comes

But the drops of water that fell yesterday

Are still here shining

Are still here dancing

To the happy wind that brings me this song

I want you to give me your hand

Let’s go out, this way

Without thinking about what I dreamed,

What I cried, what I suffered

Because our morning

Has already made me forget

Give me your hand, let’s go out to see the sun

Juju canta de Joujoux

Joujoux, Joujoux?

Que é, meu balangandã?

Aqui estou eu, aqui estás tu

Minha Joujoux, meu balangandã

Depois, nós dois

Naquele sol de manhã

Dos braços dados, dois namorados

Você, Joujoux, meu balangandã

Joujoux, Joujoux(1)?

What is it, my balangandã(2)?

Here I am, here you are

My Joujoux, my balangandã

Afterwards, us two

In this morning sun

Arm in arm, two lovers

You, Joujoux, my balangandã

(1) Joujoux is a play name, but because it sounds like his name, Juju loved to sing this old song.

(2) A large clasp worn by Bahian women with silver or gold amulets attached.

Samba Da Minha Terra

written by Dorival Caymmi – samba velho

Samba da minha terra

Deixa a gente mole

Quando se dança

Todo mundo bole

Quem não gosta de samba

Bom sujeito não é

É ruim da cabeça

Ou doente do pé

Eu nasci com o samba

No samba me criei

E do danado do samba

Nunca me separei

The samba of my land

leaves people lazy

When they dance

Everybody catches on

Whoever doesn’t like samba

There’s something wrong with him

He’s sick in the head

Or sore in the feet

I was born with samba

In the samba, I was raised

And from those damned to samba

I will never be separated

Maria Baiana Maria

written by Benito di Paula – sambão

featuring Rafi Benjamin on background vocals

Vem da alegria

Vem da Bahia

É Maria Maria

É Maria Maria

Seu vestido rendado, florido

Vem correndo sorrindo saudar

Meu Senhor do Bonfim, que alegria

Sua filha é Maria Maria

Seu olhar presa mansa, pureza

Do Brasil, da Bahia, Maria

É baiana enfeitada de flores

Meu batuque de sorte, senhores

If it’s happiness

It comes from Bahia

It’s Maria, Maria

It’s Maria, Maria

Her clothes lace-covered, flowery

She comes running, smiling and calling

My Lord of Bomfim, what happiness

Your daughter is Maria, Maria

In her glance, she captures the mildness, the purity

Of Brazil, of Bahia. Maria

Is a Bahian woman adorned with flowers.

It’s my lucky dance, senhores

Do Fundo Do Nosso Quintal

written by Alberto Souza, Jorge Aragão – pagode

featuring Jason Stanyek on banjo-cavaquinho and background vocals

Mais um pouco e vai clarear

Nos encontraremos outra vez

Com certeza nada apagará

Esse brilho de vocês

O carinho dedicado a nós

Derramamos pela nossa voz

Cantando a alegria de não estarmos sós

Boa noite, boa noite

Pra quem se encontrou no amor

Pra quem não desencantou

Pra quem veio só sambar

Pra quem diz no pé e na palma da mão

Pra quem só sentiu saudade afinal

Obrigado do fundo do nosso quintal

In just a little while, the dawn will come

We find ourselves together again

It’s certain nothing will dampen

This warmth you all have

The good feeling shown us

Spills out through our voices

Singing the happiness of not being alone

Good night, good night

To whoever found love

To whoever wasn’t disappointed

To whoever just came to samba

To whoever spoke with their feet and the palms of their hands

To whoever only feels “saudade”(1) in the end

Thank you from the bottom of our backyard(2)

(1) “Saudade” is a famously difficult word to translate which means something like “longing” or “nostalgia”.

(2) This is a play on the name of the band that originally played this song, Fundo de Quintal, or “Bottom of the Backyard” – sort of like “thank you from the bottom of my heart”

Juju dá um bate-papo do Rio

In this amazing monologue, Juju talks about his time singing professionally in Rio de Janeiro, naming many famous musicians (listen for Ella Fitgerald and Gene Krupa) and reeling off five or six great songs he used to perform.